


Dance with me under the glow of the blacklights

by ScilesMcCallinski



Series: Halloween 20gayteen [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And Second and Third, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Stiles Stilinski, Blame The Full Moon, Body Paint, Dancing, Dorks in Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Happy Ending, Hurt Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Light Angst, M/M, McCall Pack, Pining Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Scott McCall Loves Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Scott McCall, Tags Are Hard, Touching, Werewolf Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 17:03:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16371620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScilesMcCallinski/pseuds/ScilesMcCallinski
Summary: Scott shakes his head in amusement, but he does as Stiles asked and starts moving. They're slow at first, just like what Stiles was trying to do but... with a little less awkwardness. Or at least as less awkward as dancing with your best friend who you're also in love with and able to feel pretty much every inch of their body pressed against you can be.





	Dance with me under the glow of the blacklights

Derek's loft is louder and far more crowded than Scott thinks he's ever seen it. Even the blacklight party that Danny, Aiden, and Ethan hosted last year wasn't like this one. Scott's pretty sure the entire population of Beacon Hills has shown up this time, and he's genuinely surprised that Derek hasn't already changed his mind about agreeing to this whole thing and shouted for everyone to leave. He guesses it has something to do with the fact that they actually asked to use his loft this time.

It's also a lot brighter than Scott remembers blacklight parties being. No matter where he looks, he catches flashes of bright neon colours, smeared all over skin and the bodies pressing up against each other, dancing together and getting the paint all over each other. Not that what a lot of them are doing can really be classed as dancing.

The people who aren't glowing from the neon paint are dressed up. Lydia made sure to make it clear to everyone that if they aren't willing to dress up, even though it's Halloween, then they need to paint themselves. No exceptions.

He swears he's seen more werewolves in the last hour than he has on the night of a full moon.

He leans back against the wooden pillar behind him, taking a drink from the plastic cup Danny handed him about half an hour ago before disappearing into the sea of people. He's not entirely sure what he's drinking, just that it's a pinkish but also sort of brown liquid, and it stings the back of his throat each time he swallows it. There's a good chance there's a tiny pinch of wolfsbane in it, or something that's definitely not made for humans, but it isn't bothering him too much so he doesn't stop drinking it. 

He begins looking around him, unconsciously searching for a familiar face. Almost everyone around him is someone he knows, but none of them are who he's looking for.

Just as he lowers his cup, he finds him.

Stiles is in the middle of dancing—or maybe the better word is _grinding_ —with both Erica and Isaac. They all seem to be enjoying themselves. Their hips are all somehow moving like they're in sync, and Isaac's face is pressed into Stiles' neck, his hands on his waist. Erica and Stiles are both just grinning, moving along to the music, pressed close together. 

Scott's stomach twists and flips in a way that makes him want to blame the drink, even if he knows it's not because of that. He looks away from them, his eyes wandering over the crowd of people, not really focusing on any of them. 

He takes another drink from the cup, the contents not tasting as bad this time. Even if it does turn out to be slowly poisoning him, he feels like he needs to do something, just to preoccupy himself. He could go find one of his friends. They could talk, or dance, or do something that doesn't involve just standing around.

He spots Lydia over near the windows, leaning against the wall and talking to Allison. Liam's lingering close to them, looking around like he's unsure about something. Scott thinks about going over and seeing if he's okay. Maybe the last full moon really did have more of an effect on them all than he thought it did. 

But then Allison says something to him and he seems to perk up, and seconds later, he's fully engaged in the conversation with her and Lydia. 

Scott smiles and shifts his gaze away from them. Malia's standing over at the bottom of the stairs, Derek in front of her, his arms crossed. Scott's pretty sure he's trying to say no to something, but Malia doesn't seem to be backing down. He notices Cora standing a little away from the two of them with Kira, neither of them seeming to know if they should say something or not. 

He brings his cup back up to his lips, about to drink the last of the possibly-poisonous-possibly-just-really-weird-tasting drink, when Stiles slides up next to him and grabs it from his hands.

"Can I drink this?" he asks, eyeing it warily. "It's not gonna kill me, right? I tried to drink Erica's but she told me it had something in it and that unless I wanted to end up in hospital, I shouldn't." 

"Probably shouldn't risk it," Scott says.

Stiles deflates a little, still eyeing it. Then he shrugs, mutters, "screw it," and tips the rest of the contents of the cup down his throat. Scott's eyes widen as he waits for Stiles to confirm that he definitely shouldn't have done that. 

Then he screws his face up and shoves the cup back into his hand. "God, that's disgusting. It tastes like they just took a bunch of fruit and shoved it together. But not the good fruit—all the bad ones. Like... mixing durians with lychees."

Scott takes that to mean that he was wrong and that it's definitely not laced with anything. That's a little bit of a relief to know; the full moon was only a few days ago, and he's really not sure that drinking any sort of wolfsbane will help the headache he's already got.

Stiles wipes a hand over his mouth, clearly regretting taking a drink now that he's realised how bad it tastes. He glances over at something, his eyes wandering, and Scott follows his gaze to Isaac and Erica. 

They're still dancing with each other, Erica's arms draped around Isaac's neck, facing away from him as his hands slide up and down her sides. They definitely look at least a little tipsy. 

"How come you're not still with them?" Scott asks, unable to help his curiosity as he turns back to Stiles. 

Stiles shrugs, running a hand through his hair. All it does is make it stick up more and adds streaks of pink, green, and blue paint to it. He doesn't seem to notice. 

"I got bored. Besides," he rubs at his neck, wincing slightly, "I was worried Isaac was about to bite me. I could feel fangs. Not that it would have done anything, of course, but still." He drops his arm back to his side. "As kinky as it would be to have fangs in my neck, I would rather they weren't Isaac's." 

Scott shakes his head, trying to bite back a smile. He fails, but he doesn't really care. 

"Speaking of people who have fangs that I definitely _do_ want to have in my neck," Stiles waves a hand at Scott, an unimpressed look on his face. "I am seeing no paint. You don't even have a smudge. How is that possible? _Everyone_ in here has paint on them. Even the people who dressed up, which you refused to do because you said you were going to do the whole paint thing."

"I know, I know. I just haven't gotten around to it. And it's not like I've been dancing with anyone like you have." 

Stiles finally seems to become aware of just how much paint he has on his skin. And his clothes. And in his hair. 

He turns his hands over, looking pretty happy with himself for a few seconds, his lips quirking up. Then he shakes his head like he's also trying to shake himself back to reality.

He points a finger at Scott. "That's unacceptable." 

Scott raises his eyebrows at him in amusement but Stiles doesn't give him a chance to say anything. 

"This is a party," Stiles continues. "And what do we do at parties?" He pauses, but only long enough for Scott to shake his head a little. "We have fun. We get drunk. Or... slightly poisoned if you're a werewolf and trying to get even slightly buzzed. And we dance our asses off until our feet hurt so much that we can't walk home."

"Now," he places a hand on Scott's shoulder, "we are going to get all painted up until we're human glowsticks—well, one human and one werewolf glowstick. And then we're gonna dance. Okay? Sound good? Great, let's go." 

Scott doesn't even try to protest as Stiles begins guiding him toward the little table at the other end of the loft. They dodge elbows and legs and even hands that get in their way as they carefully push past the people dancing. They nearly get separated at one point, but Stiles just squeezes Scott's shoulder and continues pushing through the crowd. 

They reach the table as Danny finishes adding a neon orange swirl up a guy's neck. Aiden's still busy dealing with a girl who Scott thinks he recognizes from his AP Biology class, both of them painting another guy's arms. 

"Finally decided to join the party?" Danny asks them as he leans back against the table, paintbrush still in hand. It's obviously more aimed at Scott seeing as how Stiles has been dancing almost the entire time they've been there, and the paint covering him is evidence of that. 

"Yeah, I finally convinced this one over here to stop taking my job as the most anti-social person at a party," Stiles says, only half-joking. He peers behind Danny at the table before moving forward and picking up a brush. He turns it over like he's inspecting it. "But if Lydia spots us without a costume or paint, she'll kill us." 

"She hasn't said anything yet," Scott points out. "Besides, you're covered in paint, so I don't think she'll care."

"But you're not," Stiles shoots back without looking at him. "And unless you can find someone to dance with or make out with who is painted, or at least wearing some sort neon makeup so that it rubs off on you, then I would recommend you just take your shirt off and let me paint your body." 

Scott doesn't say that he could just do both of those things with Stiles since he's already a walking glowstick with the amount of paint and, by the looks of it, lipstick, that's all over him. He definitely thinks it, but having Stiles' hands all over him to paint him definitely sounds way more appealing.

"Okay, fine," he says, and hands his empty plastic cup to Danny. He begins unbuttoning his shirt, then pauses. "Wait, does that mean I don't have to dance?" 

"Like you don't want to," Danny mutters, under his breath and into his own cup.

Scott can't help but smile, raising his eyebrows at him. Danny just takes a drink and Scott shakes his head. He has to admit, it's sort of nice having someone know about his feelings for Stiles. Even if that someone is Danny, who likes to tease him and drop hints whenever he sees an opportunity.

"What, and I let you just go back to sulking in the corner?" Stiles scoffs, throwing him a familiar look over his shoulder. "You're dancing. But if you don't want to go find some random stranger to do it with, that's up to you. Hey, I'll even dance with you." He grins. "Wouldn't be the first time."

He turns back to them, paintbrush now dipped in neon green body paint as Danny lifts an eyebrow at them.

"You two are aware that you don't _need_ to dance with people at parties, right?" he asks. "You can easily just... dance yourself. It's a thing that people do." 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Yes, we know that. And _you_ know that it's way more fun to dance with other people." He looks behind Scott and Danny, his head tilting as he raises his eyebrows. "Not that a lot of what's going on in here can be called dancing, but still."

Scott snorts in agreement and finishes undoing his shirt, slipping it off. Stiles quickly takes it from him, throwing it onto the table behind him without even looking at where it lands. It was probably going to get covered in paint at some point anyway, so Scott isn't too bothered.

Danny seems to take that as his cue. "Okay, well, you two clearly don't need my help with this." His half-smirk, half-grin is back as he points over at where Aiden's finishing up with the guy. "I'm gonna go and see if anyone else does. You two have fun, and remember that this stuff glows. Just in case." 

Scott's eyebrows furrow in confusion, and Stiles doesn't seem to see what he's getting at any more than he does. Danny doesn't bother to elaborate though, just winks and walks over to Aiden, leaving the two of them alone. Well, as alone as they can be at a Halloween party. 

"Okay, that was weird," Stiles says, his eyes on Danny's back.

Scott makes another noise of agreement, but he's pretty sure he's catching on to what Danny meant. After all, he's seen more than one person covered in glowing lipstick marks, bright handprints in very obvious and not at all discreet places. Even Stiles' neck is marked with different coloured smudges, in the vague shape of Isaac's mouth. 

"Anyway," Stiles says, and turns his attention back to Scott. That familiar mischevious grin of his tugs at the corners of his mouth as he holds the paintbrush up, glancing at Scott's chest. "Let's get you all painted up only for you to smudge all of my beautiful handiwork by rubbing yourself all over someone else." 

Scott scrunches his face up but he can't help but grin. "Gross, but okay. Go ahead." 

Stiles' grin widens and he maneuvers Scott so that he's standing next to the table, making it easier to get to the paints without having to turn around. Then he's moving closer and placing a hand on Scott's arm as if to keep him in place while he starts on his chest. 

The paint's a little colder than Scott was expecting, and the brush feels pretty weird but he manages not to laugh or squirm. He just focuses on Stiles, his hand on his arm, fingers gently curled around his bicep, the concentrated look on his face as he paints what Scott thinks might be a spiral of some sort.

He can't help but watch him, his attention caught by Stiles' tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. He's got the same look on his face as he does whenever he's actually trying to do homework, or is really into researching something; his eyes narrowed just a little, lips slightly parted. Completely focused. It's like—

Stiles moves his hand to Scott's shoulder, squeezing lightly as he looks up at him. "Dude, stop moving." 

"It tickles," Scott defends, muttering his words. Stiles raises his eyebrows at him and he sighs. "Alright, alright. I'll stop." 

Stiles gets back to work, leaving his hand on Scott's shoulder. It doesn't get any better when he pauses for a second to change colours, then drags the brush up Scott's neck, slow and careful, clearly trying not to mess up. 

His other hand slides up from Scott's shoulder to the other side of his neck, using his thumb to turn his head a little to the right, just to make it easier for him. All it does for Scott is remind him of how incredibly close they are right now, and it's really hard for him not to move at least a little bit, but he still tries his best. 

He tries to listen as Stiles starts talking about something that happened earlier, when they first got separated; something about someone dressed up as a witch and an apple. Tries not to think about how Stiles' thumb has slid down from his jaw and is now resting on the column of his throat, or about how that's going to leave an extremely obvious fluorescent mark due to Stiles' hands still being covered in paint.

He also tries really hard not to think about what Stiles meant when he said they could dance together, if his idea of dancing is what he was doing with Isaac and Erica. A part of Scott (a big, very much in love with his best friend part of him) really hopes so.

But at the same time, he hopes it would be different. Different in the sense that it wouldn't be a joke, just more of the usual playful flirting they seem to have grown accustomed to doing. He wants to cover up every single one of the marks that Isaac left behind on Stiles' neck with ones of his own and have it mean more than just, _"we were at a party, we were just joking around."_

As unlikely as he knows it is, he can't get rid of that tiny bit of hope and wishful thinking that refuses to leave, telling him he just has to make the first move. 

"Okay," Stiles says, taking a small step back and dropping his hands. "I think we're all good?" 

His head tilts a little as he inspects his handiwork, and Scott tries not to squirm under his gaze. He seems satisfied and sets the paintbrush down on the table. 

"Time to dance?" he asks with a grin.

Scott barely has a chance to nod before Stiles is grabbing his hand, which does absolutely nothing to stop the flipping in his stomach, and begins dragging him back into the crowd of people. Just before they disappear completely, Scott glances back over his shoulder in time to catch Danny winking at him and giving a thumbs up. 

They stop once Stiles seems happy with where they are. Which, of course, is pretty much right in the middle of the loft. 

Not that Scott's complaining. It's just that his headache isn't entirely gone, and somehow it feels like being in the center of the party is making everything even more heightened than they were before. The music just that little bit louder, the flashing lights and bright paint even more disorienting, and the scent of sweat, happiness, frustration, even arousal are all hitting him even stronger than before. He's pretty sure the frustration's mainly coming from the corner of the room he spotted Derek and Malia in. 

He glances around, his head turning from the left to the right and trying to twist a little too far. He can't help it, it's like this need to figure out the source of each thing going on around him, to be able to pin each emotion, each heartbeat to the person it's coming from. 

"You okay?" Stiles asks, dragging his attention back to him. There's a little worry line between his eyebrows, far too familiar to Scott. He resists the temptation to reach out and smooth his thumb across it, get him to relax. He worries too much these days. They all do. 

That's why they needed this so much. This party, it's a way for them to have a break, to have a night without worry, without having to come up with a plan to stop their newest threat. It's Halloween, and they should be allowed to enjoy it. 

With that thought, he inhales deeply through his nose, exhales the same way, and forces himself to just try and block everything else out. Stiles is all he needs to think about right now. 

He smiles and nods, giving Stiles' hand a little squeeze. "Yeah, I'm good." 

"Great," Stiles says, smiling right back at him. "Does that mean we can dance instead of standing here like two socially awkward idiots who have no idea what they're doing?" 

"You realise that that's exactly what we are, right?" 

"Yes, but people don't need to know it."

Scott snorts and Stiles' smile turns into a grin, bright and clearly happy with himself for whatever reason. Then Scott steps closer to him, his other hand moving to Stiles' waist. He tugs him a little closer and he can't push down the little surge of happiness that shoots through him at how quickly Stiles moves closer to him despite the look of surprise on his face. 

Stiles' wide eyes return to normal as he folds his arm around the back of Scott's neck, bringing them even closer. He smirks, all playful and teasing with that mischevious little glint in his eyes that usually results in Scott's heart beating a million times faster than it should and his stomach twisting with way too many different emotions when he realises Stiles is just playing around. Again. 

He decides to just enjoy it while it lasts. Who knows how long this party will go on for it? If Malia and Cora keep arguing with Derek like they have been for the past half hour, then it's possible he'll be too distracted to kick everyone out. Or it'll make him do it faster, no one can really be sure. 

Scott just focuses on the way that Stiles seems to slowly be trying to ease him into actually dancing with him, his movements uncertain and hesitant. Right on cue with the beat of the music, he rolls his hips, nudging Scott's. 

He bites his lip, not even bothering to hide his smile at how awkward and nervous Stiles has suddenly become now that they're actually dancing. Or at least doing something that could possibly be classed as dancing, though Scott isn't too sure about that. 

"Okay, you could be making this a hell of a lot less awkward right now," Stiles says. His mouth curves up at the corners as Scott tries not to laugh. "Seriously, dude. We've danced before. At least you put some effort in all the other times." 

Scott shrugs. "I just wanted to see what you were gonna do." Stiles' jaw drops, his eyes narrowing, and he grins. "You never usually lead with this kind of stuff, so I was curious." 

"I was trying to be confident!" Stiles defends. "You know, make the first move sort of thing." 

"No, yeah, I could see that. It was a great first move, dude. Really." 

Stiles groans quietly and drops his head onto Scott's shoulder. "Just dance. Please. Before I die of embarrassment and decide that this was a terrible idea and I should have just let Isaac follow through on his threat of biting me." 

Scott shakes his head in amusement, but he does as Stiles asked and starts moving. They're slow at first, just like what Stiles was trying to do but... with a little less awkwardness. Or at least as less awkward as dancing with your best friend who you're also in love with and able to feel pretty much every inch of their body pressed against you can be.

Then once they get the hang of it, quickly remembering what they did all the other times they danced like this, it becomes less like confused and awkward swaying, and more like what everyone else around them is doing. It's somehow familiar and yet completely new at the same time. 

One of the times they danced together before was similar to what they're doing now; their hips moving in surprisingly perfect rhythm with each other, but they were clumsier back then, a lot less coordinated, and they kept knocking together. They laughed a lot because of it, but that may also have just been because they both found it hilariously ridiculous that they were dancing together at a party. More specifically, at one of Lydia's parties that they may or may not have snuck into. 

They were also a lot more handsy with each other than they are now. Instead of the simple, careful touches between them right now, their hands were all over each other. They were only about fifteen, and they were riding the rush of actually being at a high school party and surrounded by people drinking and making out, so letting their hands wander a little didn't seem like such a big deal.

They laughed it off, even turned it into a game to see how far they were both willing to go before one of the backed out. Scott had barely managed to slip his hands under Stiles' t-shirt and place them on his sides before Stiles turned red and pulled away, saying that Scott's hand were cold. He spent the next hour after that trying to figure out how his hands were cold when it was the middle of summer and he felt like his skin was on fire.

"Whatcha' thinkin' about?" Stiles asks, snapping Scott back. "You went all quiet and you were doing the whole biting your lip and tilting your head thing... you know, the way you do when you're thinking about something. Not to mention you were staring at me."

Scott can't help but smile, not even able to be embarrassed at getting caught outright staring at Stiles while thinking about them having their hands all over each other. 

"Remember that time we snuck into Lydia's party?" 

"Which one?" Stiles jokes and Scott rolls his eyes. He grins. "Yeah, I remember. I'm pretty sure that was the first high school party we ever went to. And possibly the first time we got drunk." 

Scott laughs, ducking his head as he recalls the both of them trying to explain to his mom—and later Stiles' dad—why they weren't back before she left for work at three in the morning, and why she then found them passed out in Scott's bed, practically one person with how tangled their limbs were. It's safe to say that they were grounded for at least two weeks. Not that that stopped Stiles from climbing in through Scott's window almost every night.

There's a pause, only for a second or two, filled with a roll of hips, a little bit of swaying. Then Stiles says, "and it was the first time you ever let me convince you to dance with me. I feel like this has to become some sort of tradition for us at Halloween parties now." 

"Definitely," Scott agrees, because the thought of this happening again is one that he likes.

"Maybe Christmas as well," Stiles adds with a shrug, acting all casual. "And pretty much any other type of party we go to." Scott raises his eyebrows at him, his lips tugging up at the corners. "What? No one else will dance with me, I might as well try and hold on to the one person who will." 

"What about Erica and Isaac?" Scott asks, unable to help himself. He glances over at where he knows they are, hearing their laughs as Isaac spins Erica around, a lot more upbeat now. "They seemed pretty happy to dance with you." 

Stiles rolls his eyes but follows his gaze over to them. "We were just bored. They're much happier with just each other. Besides, it's a hell of a lot easier to dance with you than those two."

For the first time since they started dancing, Scott notices that Stiles is using his thumb to trace little patterns into the back of his hand. It sort of feels like he's trying to spell something out, but Scott can't figure out what it is. 

Stiles grins, looking at him. "It's way more fun as well. I'm not sure anyone else would appreciate me talking about how I think Peter could have made his own life a lot easier by just finding a random Alpha and taking their powers instead of going after his family, or a bunch of teenagers." 

"Yeah, that would probably ruin the mood for a lot of people," Scott agrees.

"But not you!" Stiles says, as if proving his point. 

"Yeah, but I've had years of practice," Scott points out. "I lost count of the number of times you've shown up in my room at like two in the morning just to talk about some of the weirdest things I've ever heard." He shrugs. "The only difference right now is that I'm more awake."

"And that's why I like dancing with you," Stiles says. "You know me better than anyone and you don't care if I start talking about murderous lunatics while we're supposed to be... I don't know, whatever it is that people do when they're dancing. Feeling each other up? Making out?" 

"Okay, I would definitely care more if you started talking about Peter while we were making out." 

Stiles pauses, mouth open like he's going to argue, but he falters. Then, "yeah, okay, that's fair. That would be pretty weird. Okay, fine, so not when we're making out. But you don't mind when we're dancing, and that's what I like." 

Scott shakes his head but can't stop the smile that tugs at his mouth. "I think I see what you mean. I'm pretty sure Lydia would have walked away from you by now if you tried to have this conversation with her when you're meant to be focusing on dancing with her." 

"Hey, I am focusing, if you haven't noticed," he says, and as if to prove it, he nudges Scott with his hip, earning him an eye-roll and a grin. "But back to my original point which is that I like dancing with you more than anyone else here. Which, now that I'm saying it out loud, sounds pretty weird and like something I should probably have kept to myself." 

"It's not weird if I feel the same way," Scott says, unconsciously sliding his hand up Stiles' side, just enough to pass for him adjusting his hold on him. A smile spreads across his face as Stiles raises his eyebrows. "Like you said, it's easier to dance with you. Probably because you're the person I feel most comfortable with. It just makes sense." 

His mind unhelpfully tacks on an extra, _like how being in love with you just makes sense._

Stiles blinks in surprise and Scott can feel his pulse jump underneath his fingers. For a very weird second, he worries that he said that last part out loud, or that Stiles somehow read his mind. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's happened to them, and he's actually surprised nothing like it _has_ happened yet. 

Then Stiles is nodding, his movements slow as his eyes move back and forth over Scott's face, like he's searching for something. He chews on his lip and Scott can almost say that he doesn't stare at his mouth like he's done far too many times in the past because of Stiles' obsession with chewing on things. Almost. He has pretty great self-control most of the time, but right now he's a little all over the place so of course that goes flying out the window as well.

His eyes flick down for a second or two, and for the first time in the last hour, he notices that one of the only parts Stiles doesn't have any paint is his mouth. His jaw, his arms, his neck—all have at least a smudge of glowing paint. But not his mouth. 

He catches himself a second later and his eyes snap back up to Stiles' face. A second too late. Stiles obviously saw him staring, a questioning but curious look on his face and his eyebrows practically disappearing with how far up they've gone. 

Scott's heart beats a little faster in his chest, and his stomach flips, but he stays calm. Partly because Stiles' eyes are the ones darting down now, his lips parting ever so slightly before flicking back up. That same questioning look is still there, like he's asking permission for something that hasn't been said out loud but is definitely there, lingering in the air.

Scott sucks in a breath as Stiles slowly moves closer, leaning in and tilting his head. He holds Scott's gaze as he does, obviously giving him an opportunity to back away if he wants to, an unspoken promise that it'll be completely forgotten about if that's what he chooses and they'll never bring it up again. 

Scott barely even has to think about his decision. He goes to lean in as well, to finally close the only gap between them that's been taunting him since they started dancing. Their lips just barely ghost over each other, Stiles' eyes closing at the last second. 

Then a sharp pain shoots through Scott's head and he flinches, flinching without meaning to. He ducks his head, his eyes screwing shut as the music he had been successfully blocking out finds its way back in, loud and sending a buzzing through his head, the sensation spreading through his limbs and burning in his lungs. 

"Scott?" Stiles' voice slips through the noise, concerned and panicked. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay," Scott quickly assures him, but a second later, he has to clench his jaw as the beat of the music seems to get louder and more painful. "It's okay. I'm not hurt." 

He glances up to find Stiles staring at him in disbelief. He tries to take in a deep breath to even it back out, calm his heartbeat back down, but it's shaky and doesn't do much to help. 

"It's just the..." Scott shakes his head, still trying and failing to tune it all out again. "The full moon. It's not usually this bad, especially not after. I guess coming to a party wasn't a great idea." 

"Yeah, clearly," Stiles says, as if wanting to lecture him on not saying anything. Which he absolutely will do later and they both know it. Right now, though, he drops his arm from around Scott's neck, moving his hand to his shoulder. "Alright, let's get you out of here, yeah?" 

He squeezes lightly then turns Scott around, dropping his hand in favour of placing it on his other shoulder and beginning to carefully but quickly guide him through the sea of people around them. Scott doesn't protest and just keeps his head down to avoid the lights all over the walls and the glowing paint that hurts just to look at now. 

He thinks he hears one of their friends—possibly Lydia—asking if everything's okay and Stiles just saying they'll be back in a few minutes. Then a door's opened and Scott's being gently pushed through it. 

A cold blast of wind hits him immediately, traveling straight into his lungs and burning like he's just filled them with ice. It's actually a nice change from the party.

He takes a few steps forward, his head still spinning. His hands quickly find stone, and somewhere in the back of his mind he vaguely realises that they must be out on Derek's balcony as he grips the edge of it a little tighter, the rough feeling of the stones underneath his palms grounding him just a little bit. 

The door drags on the ground behind him then clicks shut and suddenly the sound of the party quiets down to muffled noise, no longer attacking Scott's ears and mind. 

There are footsteps behind him, hesitantly moving closer. "Scotty?" 

Scott nods, letting Stiles know it's okay. A wave of relief hits his nose before Stiles is sliding up beside him, gently touching his shoulder. He lifts his head to look up at him, offering him a weak attempt at a smile as his heartbeat finally stops pounding against his chest so hard that he's sure it's trying to jump over the edge of the balcony. 

"I'm okay," he assures him, even if he does still feel a little bit nauseous.

Stiles' shoulders drop slightly, visibly relaxing, and he huffs out a sound that resembles a relieved sigh as he shakes his head. "Okay, so I guess parties are officially off the list of things we do literally two days after the full moon." 

Scott makes a noise of agreement as he drops his head back down. He stares down at the street, taking a few deep breaths in and out just to make sure. It does help his chest loosen slightly and the tight, sinking feeling in his stomach eases.

They stay like that for a few minutes, neither of them saying anything. Stiles drops his hand from Scott's shoulder at some point, leaning sideways into the wall, joining Scott in watching the street below them.

It's not very busy; only a few people are wandering around, a group of people sitting on the ground, just talking away and laughing, all dressed up. Scott thinks they must have come from the party, the fluorescent paint visible even from how high up they are and without any blacklights. 

The soft glow of the streetlights are probably at least partially to blame for that, but he doesn't really mind. It actually makes the whole street look a little warmer. 

He hears shuffling beside him, then the sound of nails lightly scratching against stone and concrete. He glances up at Stiles to find him staring straight ahead, a thoughtful look on his face. Scott can't help but smile, then goes to turn back to the street. 

"So, uh—" Scott stops as Stiles starts talking, shifting his gaze back up to him and waiting for him to continue. Stiles doesn't look at him, though. "Would now be a good or bad time to talk about how we nearly kissed before you started having a wolfy attack?" 

Scott blinks in surprise; in the moment, he had nearly forgotten about it all, including the way that they had both been slowly leaning in, how he could feel Stiles' lips just barely an inch or two away from his own. 

Stiles glances at him now, and once he does, he doesn't seem able to look away, staring into Scott's with a look that's less... guarded than usual, which is strange because Scott's never thought of Stiles as a guarded person. He just looks more vulnerable, more open, more worried and nervous. 

He opens his mouth again and Scott can already tell what he's about to say. He doesn't give him the chance. He doesn't want to let him say they can just forget it, that it wasn't a big deal, _"nothing even actually happened so it's totally cool if you don't wanna talk about it."_

"I'd say a pretty okay time considering the situation," Scott says, sending him a small smile when his eyes widen a little in surprise. Then he pauses and glances down at the street as he says, "I'm sorry I freaked out. I seriously don't know what happened, it was like I was so focused on you that everything else just hit me at once as soon as I stopped trying to block it all out."

"Hey, that wasn't your fault," Stiles says. Scott's distinctly aware of him shifting a little closer. "You're okay now, though, right? No more... whatever happens when the full moon decides it wants to torture you for an extra few days." 

Scott laughs softly and nods. "Yeah, I'm okay. Still got a bit of a headache, but that might also just be evidence of my inexperience with parties and how much loud music I can handle."

"No, I definitely think it's a full moon thing." Scott raises his eyebrows at him and he explains, "Erica and Isaac were pretty off, even while we were dancing. And I noticed that Liam was barely standing on his own... Lydia and Allison looked like they were having to keep him from passing out." 

Scott's eyebrows furrow. "This doesn't usually happen." 

Stiles shrugs and says, "yeah, well, I'm blaming it on the fact that you're at a party. You can barely handle school after a full moon, did you really think a small loft crammed full of about half of the population of Beacon Hills, most of them drunk and screaming at each other, along with music that makes even human ears feel like they're bleeding, was going to be any better?"

"I know," Scott sighs. "I shouldn't have come tonight. I just... It's been a while since we've actually been able to enjoy Halloween. I wanted this to be a night where we could all have fun, and relax. Have some sort of normality in our lives." He looks back down at the street, glancing at his hands. "I guess it would have been better to just stay home."

"For the record, I would have stayed with you if you didn't want to come tonight." Stiles shrugs again when Scott looks at him. "To be honest, I would probably have preferred spending the entire day watching horror movies with you. You know, what with the whole social anxiety thing." 

Scott can't help but smile and he finally pushes himself upright, turning to properly face Stiles. He's aware of how close he's standing—not as close as when they were dancing, but barely half a step forward and they would be back there all over again. 

Stiles seems to notice as well, his lips parting slightly, his eyes darting down before snapping back up to Scott's. He can hear the jump in his heartbeat. 

"We still could," Scott suggests, and he tries not to think about how it sounds and feels like it has two meanings. "It's only around nine, maybe ten. That's still enough time for us to go back to my house and watch a few movies. If you want to leave, that is." 

"Absolutely, I've never wanted to leave a party more," Stiles quickly says, the relief at Scott suggesting it clear in his voice.

Scott grins, then sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, motioning his head in the direction of the door. "Should we—" 

"Wait," Stiles' eyes widen, his hands scrabbling to stop him from walking away. He flails them in the air for all of two seconds before he leaves them hovering in front of Scott. 

Scott does stop, his eyebrows furrowing. "What's wrong?" he asks, his head tilting a little to the side in confusion and maybe a tiny bit of worry that Stiles has changed his mind and wants to stay after all. 

"Nothing, nothing. It's just, uh..." Stiles hesitates, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, "there's something I want to do first, and I feel like if I don't do it now then I might talk myself out of it, and it's sort of taken me pretty much the entire night to even work myself up to getting _here_ , so—" 

"What is it?" Scott asks, a hint of hope slipping through, his heart speeding up just a little. He's pretty sure he knows what Stiles is talking about. 

"Uh, well..." Stiles takes that little step forward, "It's sort of hard to explain. Maybe it would be easier if I just showed you? You know, since you know I'm no good with words—I always talk way too long and go off topic, and you understand things better through actions and stuff, so—" 

"Stiles," Scott cuts him off and he immediately stops talking, his eyes a little wide and his nerves clear. Scott smiles. "Just kiss me." 

Stiles seems caught off-guard by how easily Scott says it, and if he's honest with himself, he's probably just as surprised. But then Stiles' shoulders are slumping with relief.

"Gladly," he says, almost like a sigh. 

Then he's moving in, closing the little gap between them. Scott angles his head, his eyes closing just a second before Stiles' lips are on his and he loses any and all thought process. He kisses back without hesitation, even pressing forward a little to try and get closer as Stiles brings his hands up to rest on either side of his neck, clearly having the same idea. 

It's strange, indescribable, and totally unfamiliar, and Scott's loving every second of it, leaning into Stiles' every touch. He can feel the curve of Stiles' mouth as he smiles, his thumbs tracing little circles into the spot just below his jaw, and Scott's stomach is filled with that familiar swoopy feeling that makes his chest a little tight and a warmth to spread from it to his stomach and all over his body. He doesn't mind it as much now that it's because he has Stiles right here, like this. 

Stiles is still smiling as he pulls back, just enough to look at Scott. His eyes move back and forth, all over his face, and Scott can only smile back at him, his head still buzzing from the feeling of kissing Stiles.

It seems to be enough for Stiles. 

"We should have just done that earlier," he says. "Like, way earlier. Years ago, in fact. It would have saved us a lot of time, and I don't know about you, but it would definitely have saved me a good few years of silently pining and suffering over wanting to kiss you and not being able to." 

Scott rests his hands on Stiles' arm, in the bend of his elbows. "That would definitely have made life a lot easier." He smiles again, running his hands up Stiles' arm to his hands, still on his neck. "But we're here now." 

"Still always the positive one, aren't you?" Stiles asks, clearly joking as he shakes his head. 

Scott takes his hands, holding them in his own. "Well, you did just kiss me. It's a little hard to be anything but positive after that." 

" _God_ , you're so cheesy," Stiles groans, but then he's leaning in and quickly pressing another kiss to Scott's lip before murmuring, "I love it. And you're right." 

"Of course I am," Scott says with a grin and Stiles rolls his eyes. "Now... are you ready to get out of here? Or is there something else you want to do?" 

Stiles shakes his head. "Nope, all good. Let's go back to yours and watch a bunch of horror movies until we pass out at whatever time." 

Scott smiles, agreeing, and with that, he drops one of Stiles' hand, holding onto the other as they walk back into Derek's loft, maneuvering their way through everyone and waving a quick goodbye to Lydia and Allison when they glance over at them. Then they head to Scott's house, and after washing off the paint, they do exactly as they said. Just with a little more cuddling, sneaky kisses, and the odd moment where they nearly jump out of their skin because they aren't paying attention and something in the movie catches them off-guard.

All in all, pushing aside the whole after-effects of the full moon and the mild headache that Scott still has, it's a pretty good Halloween. Maybe the best one yet, he thinks with his arms wrapped around Stiles, curled up in his bed together while Scream plays away.

He notices Stiles' fingers trailing along his arm, the familiar little pattern he's drawing on his skin. Just like back at the party. His eyes follow them, watching carefully, and it only takes a few seconds now to figure out the letters he's spelling out. 

A smile spreads across his face as he hugs Stiles a little closer, pressing his face into his neck. "I love you," he murmurs.

Stiles turns his head to look at him, eyebrows going up. Then a soft smile's tugging at his lips as well and he kisses him, sweet and gentle. "I love you, Scotty." 

Even though he didn't need him to say it, Scott's stomach still goes all warm and the swoopy feeling returns as Stiles turns back to the movie. Definitely the best Halloween Scott's had in a while.


End file.
